French Music & Sweet Dreams

Aside from not having many sweet dreams lately, there IS French Music. It calls to me when I sit looking out of the window at the rain. It calls to me when I am listening to the birds chatter about their lack of privacy. It sings to me when I daydream at my bureau about far off lands and swimming pools in blazing sunshine.

As I look at Fabritius’ painting of The Goldfinch, I hear the music.

I swim through thoughts of cloud formations, and green fields full of young wheat. I meander along lanes, seeing and feeling the wind drifting through my hair and twisting leaves into dancing flutters. The French Music follows me in a whisper & a beat.